Iridescent

Chapter 5

Stasia

The next morning, I decided I would be fashionably late. Following mother's orders, I arose out of bed a half an hour later than usual—beauty-rested and all. Matter of fact, the forty minutes of lounging in my bed, and contemplating the thought of running away made my hair glimmer that much more. I would have happily remained yawning at the drapery that laced over my bed posts all morning, but Meredith threatened to thwack me on the forehead.

"Stasia," She huffed and planted me in my vanity chair, "Your father's going to—"

I gave her some choices, "Put my head on a stake? Sell me into slavery? Perhaps, feed me to the wolves?"

She directed the new maid, Irina, to find me something suitable to wear for breakfast and switched her tawny eyes to warn me through the mirror, "We aren't finding out the end of that sentence."

With her worn hands, she knitted a part of my hair into a light braid and let the rest spill back over my back. A part of me felt guilty as I watched her scramble with some powders—she looked exhausted. She had probably been up since the rooster crowed—meeting every beck and call assigned to her. And here she was, cleaning up the mess of me because I wanted to avoid breakfast at all costs.

"I am sorry, Mer," I whispered as she worked to polish my face enough to make it presentable. She glanced over my shoulder and nodded in approval at Irina who held up a long sleeved, sage colored gown. Irina would probably have to dust the thing since I haven't seen it make an appearance from the back of my armoire for a few years.

"Bringing out all the stops, huh?" I tried to make her smile.

She sighed as she looked down at me with the brush in her hand and then said, "Close your eyes, Stasia."

I closed them and felt her pepper something else on my face, and continued, "Have you seen him?"

"No." Her tone was more tired than it was dry.

The brush stopped tickling my eye lids and I opened my eyes to look at her again as she dug through the drawer of nonsense, probably looking for that cold, black paste to pack onto my eye lashes. I couldn't remember the last time Meredith took this much time on my make up—and quite frankly, from the looks of it, I don't think she could name it either.

"What did the doctor say?" I asked quietly. Meredith was gone all day yesterday, going to see a healer she knew in eastern village, Betale, for a cough that had been pounding her petite chest for a few weeks now. It was the first time she had ever missed a time to dress me for a ball—but, I wouldn't have lived with myself if she didn't go. The worse her cough sounded, the more Lyall and I pressed.

She didn't answer but turned around with the wand of dark gunk, asking me to look upwards. She smoothed her palm softly against my cheek bone and tickled both of my eye lashes with it until she was satisfied. By the way she kept to herself and started collecting the powders and brushes without so much as glancing towards me, I knew it was something she didn't want me to hear.

"You know, I'm going to worry about you one way or another," I told her.

At this, she gave me a stern look I did not receive too often, "No use in that. I am supposed to worry about you, not the other way around—that's how it is, and how it always will be." She moved from the vanity to help Irina smooth out the gown on my bed and I followed reluctantly.

"More importantly, what did I miss last night?" She spoke while she fitted my corset, taking a moment to hold the string in her teeth before she started lacing it up comfortably. "Your mother has a chip on her shoulder that's worthy of the King's Quarry."